An Unlikely Suitor Read online

  “Just what are you offering, Miss Brabant? Do you wish to stick with blackmail, or revert to bribery instead?”

  Lavender glared at him. “It was not my intention to bribe or to blackmail. You know that.”

  Barnabas laughed. “Do I? It seems that I do not know you quite as well as I had imagined. But that can be remedied….”

  Lavender realized that he was about to kiss her. Yet she did not draw back from him. She felt him pull her against him. His hands were hard on her slender frame, but when his lips touched hers they were gentle. Lavender felt her bones melt.

  When he let her go, the sensual excitement was fizzing through her blood like wine. For a moment she could remember nothing of where she was. She put out a hand to him and he pressed a kiss on the back before letting it go.

  “I must go. Forgive me….”

  An Unlikely Suitor

  Nicola Cornick

  Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Nicola Cornick for her contribution to THE STEEPWOOD SCANDAL series.

  NICOLA CORNICK

  became fascinated with history when she was a child and spent hours poring over historical novels and watching costume drama. She still does! She has worked in a variety of jobs, from serving refreshments on a steam train to arranging university graduation ceremonies. When she is not writing, she enjoys walking in the English countryside, taking her husband, dog and even her cats with her. Nicola loves to hear from readers and can be contacted by e-mail at [email protected] and via her Web site at www.nicolacornick.co.uk.

  THE STEEPWOOD SCANDAL:

  Lord Ravensden’s Marriage, by Anne Herries

  An Innocent Miss, by Elizabeth Bailey

  The Reluctant Bride, by Meg Alexander

  A Companion of Quality, by Nicola Cornick

  A Most Improper Proposal, by Gail Whitiker

  A Noble Man, by Anne Ashley

  An Unreasonable Match, by Sylvia Andrew

  An Unconventional Duenna, by Paula Marshall

  Counterfeit Earl, by Anne Herries

  The Captain’s Return, by Elizabeth Bailey

  The Guardian’s Dilemma, by Gail Whitiker

  Lord Exmouth’s Intentions, by Anne Ashley

  Mr. Rushford’s Honor, by Meg Alexander

  An Unlikely Suitor, by Nicola Cornick

  An Inescapable Match, by Sylvia Andrew

  The Missing Marchioness, by Paula Marshall

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter One

  September 1812

  ‘Just how many pairs of gloves does a lady need, Lavender?’ Caroline Brabant asked her sister-in-law.

  The two of them were sitting in the library at Hewly Manor, a long elegant room lined with walnut bookshelves that the Admiral, Lavender’s father, had stocked with all manner of fascinating collections from his travels abroad. Caroline was reclining on the sofa and Lavender had just finished reading aloud to her from Sense and Sensibility, a novel of manners and morals that they were both enjoying.

  Lavender looked up from the book. Caroline’s query sounded idle but Lavender knew that she seldom asked pointless questions. Nor, being a lady of quality, did Caroline need Lavender’s advice on matters of elegance. There had to be another reason for the question…

  ‘I am not sure, Caro,’ she began carefully. ‘Three or four, perhaps? A best and second best pair and a pair for evenings—’

  Caroline sighed and put aside her magazine. ‘Hammonds the drapers must find you quite their best customer then,’ she observed gently, ‘for by my calculations, you have bought no less than six pairs of gloves in the last quarter alone!’

  Lavender avoided her eyes. Caroline was disconcertingly shrewd.

  ‘If not gloves then bonnets, scarves or materials…’ Caroline was saying now. ‘Have all your clothes worn out at the same time, Lavender?’

  Lavender jumped up and crossed to the library window. Dusk was falling across Hewly Manor gardens and it was time to light the candles. She kept her back to Caroline and tried to speak casually.

  ‘You know how it may be, Caro…’ She was proud of the lightness of her tone. ‘Sometimes everything seems to need replacing at once! Now that it is autumn again I find I have a need for some new items, warmer clothes to suit the weather—’ She broke off, aware that she was starting to ramble and sure that she could feel Caroline’s intent gaze riveted on the back of her head. Usually she was delighted to have Caroline’s companionship and felt that her brother Lewis could not have made a better match. Usually, but not today. Not when Caroline was in the kind of mood to press her on her new-found interest in drapery.

  ‘I think I shall take a walk before dark,’ she said hastily, feeling the need to escape Caroline’s shrewd eye. ‘I have the headache and a brisk stroll around the gardens may help…’

  Caroline picked up the needlework that lay beside her on the rose brocade sofa. ‘Very well. I shall not offer to accompany you, for I find I tire so easily these days.’ She tilted her head to consider the baby clothes that she was embroidering with such enviable skill. ‘I believe I shall be in need of some more thread tomorrow. Perhaps you would be so good as to walk into Abbot Quincey and purchase some for me, Lavender?’

  Lavender shot her a suspicious look, but Caroline’s face was serene as she bent over her work. Now that she was increasing, there was an air of contentment about her that Lavender thought was even more marked than in the first days of her marriage to Lewis. Unfortunately for Lavender, Caroline’s pregnancy had affected neither the quickness of her mind nor her powers of observation.

  Lavender closed the library door softly behind her. She could hear a bell ringing in the depths of the house as Caroline called for the candles to be lit, and a housemaid scurried out of the servants’ quarters, dropped Lavender a curtsey and gave her a smile, before hastening to do the mistress’s bidding. Lavender had been quick to see that all the servants liked Caroline. There was such an air of peace about Hewly these days, though Caroline joked that all that would be ruined once the baby was born.

  Lavender went to fetch her coat and boots from the garden room. The house was spick and span, though giving the impression of being a little frayed at the edges. There was little spare money for refurbishment, for Lewis was ploughing it all back into the estate in order to repair the neglect of the last few years. Lavender did not mind—she found Hewly’s worn elegance comforting and tasteful, and besides, she knew that whilst they were still in mourning for her father it would not be appropriate to begin a major restoration. Lewis had hinted that they might go up to Town the following autumn, but Lavender hoped that they would not. She had endured one tedious London Season four years before and had no wish to be bored by another. Yet it did raise the spectre of her future, for now that Lewis was married and with a family on the way she did not wish to hang on his coat-tails. Neither he nor Caroline would ever give the impression that she was an unwelcome third, but even so…

  Lavender went out of the front door and paused for a moment on the gravel path, trying to decide which way to go. Before her, the formal parterre led to the walled gardens and beyond that to the orchard. She could see the moon rising through the branches of the apple trees. She drew on one of the many pairs of gloves that Caroline had referred to, and started to walk along the path.

  Perhaps, Lavender thought as she walked, she could become one of those redoubtable maiden aunts upon whom every family depended. As Lewi
s and Caroline’s brood expanded she could be an additional nursery nurse and governess, indispensable to servants and family alike. Everyone would remark on how good she was with the children and how they doted on her. As she grew older she could become eccentric, buy herself a cottage and keep cats. She would have her painting and her botany…

  Lavender’s pace slowed. The truth was that the thought left her with a hollow feeling somewhere inside her. She had every intention of being a devoted aunt to Lewis and Caroline’s children, but what if she wished for a family of her own? She was unhappily aware that at three and twenty she was well past marriageable age and that she had never met a man who made her pulse race. Well, if she were honest, she had met one, and that was the root of the whole trouble…

  She reached the orchard and stopped for a moment whilst the wind snatched the fallen leaves from the path and whirled them around her. The sky was a clear, dark blue and it promised to be a chilly night. It was September, one of Lavender’s favourite months, but already she could feel the year turning, echoing her own feeling of passing time.

  On impulse she let herself out through the door in the wall and found herself in the cobbled street that led from the Manor down to the Steep River, past the Guarding Academy. She had not intended to walk far, but now that darkness was falling a sudden inclination took her down to the water, along the Abbey wall and to the edge of the woods. In the daylight Lavender wandered far and wide with no concerns for distance or safety but it was not so sensible to do so at night. She had heard that there were poachers in the woods, and whilst she thought they would not hurt her, it was best not to be seen. Lavender shivered a little in the sharp breeze. She had seen and heard plenty of odd things in the time that she had lived in Steep Abbot, but she never told a soul…

  She passed the Guarding Academy and smiled a little as she heard the faint sound of singing on the air. Tonight must be choir practice. The music followed her down to the river, where it was lost amongst the noise of the tumbling water. The moon was a silver disc on the rippling surface and the wind hummed in the trees.

  There was a short cut along the edge of the woods back to the Manor gardens, a little path that was bordered on one side by a stone wall and had the whispering trees on the other. It was only a step back to the Hewly estate, but for some reason Lavender felt unexpectedly nervous. Telling herself that it was hunger and not fear that rumbled in her stomach, she stepped out boldly.

  She had gone only four paces when she almost stumbled over a large sack that was lying at the side of the path. She looked around hastily, but there was no one in sight. The shadows were thick beneath the trees and the leaves rustled. She could still hear the sound of the river running, for it was only a few yards behind her.

  Gooseflesh crept along Lavender’s skin. She could not decide what to do. She could retrace her steps and go home the way she had come, or she could pass by, pretending that she had noticed nothing. That was surely better than opening the sack and discovering some choice piece of game that a poacher was about to reclaim. Then she thought she heard a sound from inside the bag and in spite of her better judgement, she bent down. She had just stretched her hand towards it, when the whole sack shifted of its own accord, as though possessed. Lavender let out an involuntary scream.

  Immediately there was a step behind her on the path and before she could even stand up, someone grabbed her arm and spun her round.

  Lavender found herself in the rough embrace of someone who clearly wished to prevent her from screaming again. One of his arms was tight about her waist and the coarse material of his coat scored her cheek. He was very tall. And broad. Her hands were pressed against his chest and she was conscious of the hard muscle beneath her fingers and the steady beat of his heart.

  Curiously this discovery led Lavender to become acutely aware of the information her senses were providing. She could hear the rustle of the trees mingled with her assailant’s breathing, feel the cold touch of the breeze and the warmth of his skin as he bent his head and his cheek brushed her hair. And he smelled wonderful, a mixture of cold air and the faint tang of citrus. It was this last impression that somehow weakened her and she felt her legs tremble and his arm tighten about her in response.

  ‘Mr Hammond!’

  Lavender could not have said how she knew his identity but she had no doubts at all, and the words were out before she even had time to think. She pushed a little shakily against the man’s chest and he let go of her at once, stepping back so that he was facing her, a few steps away.

  ‘Miss Brabant!’ Barnabas Hammond’s voice was as slow and thoughtful as she remembered, but warmed now by an amusement that Lavender felt was surely out of place. She had always liked the way that Barney spoke, with perfect courtesy but no hint of deference. His father was always obsequious towards his upper-class clients in the draper’s shop, and Lavender found this grated on her, particularly when she had seen his dismissive scorn towards the poorer customers. She had observed that Barney always treated everybody in exactly the same way and had liked him for it.

  Now, however, she felt oddly at a loss, as though the clear definition of their relationship had somehow been blurred. He was a shopkeeper’s son and she was an admiral’s daughter, and with the shop counter between them she had allowed herself to dream a little. He might always speak to everyone in the same manner, but there was a decided hint of warmth when he addressed her, an admiration in his eyes that had made her heart beat a little faster. Then he had been so kind to her when her father had died. He scarcely knew her and yet his words of comfort had been so perceptive.

  Caroline was right—she had been calling in at the draper’s shop more often of late, contriving an order of ribbons here, a pair of gloves there. She blushed to think of it now. She had thought…But here her thoughts became at the best confused. Was she a snob, aware of her status and the relative inferiority of his, or was she above such things, scornful of those whose lives were ruled by rank and privilege? Whatever the case, she had never met Barnabas Hammond in a situation such as this and it made her feel strangely vulnerable.

  The odd effect he had on her caused her voice to come out with decidedly squeaky overtones when she would have preferred to sound authoritative.

  ‘Mr Hammond, what do you mean by creeping around in the dark—and with this—’ She gestured with her foot towards the offending sack. It seemed obvious that he had been poaching and worse, that his quarry was still alive.

  ‘I would have thought better of you!’ she finished with self-righteous indignation.

  ‘Would you?’ Barney Hammond sounded surprised and amused. ‘Naturally, I am flattered, Miss Brabant, but why should you?’

  Lavender frowned slightly. She could not see his expression properly, for it was almost full dark now and besides, he was possessed of a face that was inscrutable at the best of times. She had heard the maids giggling over Barney Hammond, remarking on his good looks and athletic physique, and whilst Lavender would have said that he was in no way classically handsome, she was aware that there was definitely something about him. It was a something that made her feel quite hot and bothered when she dwelt on it and it had even led Caroline once to remark, completely dispassionately, that she could see why all the village girls were wild for him.

  Lavender tried to concentrate, aware that such thoughts were making matters worse rather than better. She knew that it would be best to make her excuses and leave, but Barney was waiting politely for her response and she felt it would be rude simply to walk away.

  ‘I did not imagine that you would stoop to poaching,’ she said coldly, indicating the sack again. It had not moved again but she knew she had not imagined it. ‘And to take your prey without killing it cleanly—that is rank cruelty!’

  This time she heard him laugh. ‘Oh, so you think I am a poacher, Miss Brabant? I see!’ The warmth in his tone had slid into teasing and Lavender was even more confused. Not only was this inappropriate, it suggested that he was comple
tely heartless!

  ‘What else am I supposed to think?’ she countered angrily, wondering why the timbre of his voice was so attractive when his words were so much the opposite. ‘I heard a noise from the sack—and I saw it move! And why else would you be out after dark—’

  She watched in amazement as Barney crouched down on the path and loosened the string at the neck of the sack. Suddenly she did not want to see whatever poor, maimed creature was inside.

  ‘I pray you, put it out of its misery quickly,’ she said hastily, looking the other way. ‘How can you be so unkind—’

  ‘Putting them out of their misery was precisely what my father intended,’ Barney said dryly. ‘I fear that you have jumped to the wrong conclusions, Miss Brabant.’

  Lavender heard a tiny mewing sound and looked round sharply. Barney was easing something gently out of the sack, something soft, fluffy and with very sharp claws. Lavender saw him wince as the kitten sank teeth and claws simultaneously into his hand.

  ‘Oh, there are two of them!’

  ‘Yes, and not precisely grateful for my clemency!’

  Lavender stepped closer and Barney opened his fist to reveal the two tiny bodies. They were shivering a little, peering round with huge-eyed apprehension. Lavender put a hand out and tentatively stroked one tiny head.

  ‘Oh, how adorable! But—’ She looked up suddenly into his face. ‘The sack—you were going to drown them in the river?’

  ‘My father intended them for such a fate,’ Barney corrected her. He was stroking the kittens with gentle fingers and Lavender could hear their ecstatic purrs. ‘Their mother was a stray and he did not wish to encourage her, but my sister Ellen had grown much attached to the kittens and begged me to find them a good home. So I offered to take them away and my father assumed I would get rid of them.’

  Lavender shivered. ‘But what were you intending to do with them? Has someone offered to take them in?’